


Same Wavelengths

by VirginiasWolf



Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, as in implications that they are a pairing during season one, first person Alex's viewpoint, takes place during the episode Seizure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirginiasWolf/pseuds/VirginiasWolf
Summary: Through all their chaos, they always end up back on the same page.  Alex is a little shook up by Bobby purposely hurting himself to prove a suspect's innocence.  What happens when Bobby finally realizes that in hurting himself he's also hurt the woman he loves?





	Same Wavelengths

**Author's Note:**

> If this story looks familiar it's because it's also on my fanfiction.net account (username Land of the Delta Blues) under the title "Bleeding".

It's dubious that our latest Motel Ripper copycat suspect has been ripping open anything other than the bags his latest drug fixes came in. Still, his face is on camera buying the room our last victim was found in so we can't rule him out as an accomplice yet.

The moment Bobby sits on the table in front of the suspect, I can immediately see the wheels in his head starting to turn. The man is brilliant and usually is fascinating to watch both as a professional partner and a lover. However, the next thing he does reminds me exactly why the department frequently tries to label him as the insane one. Out of suit coat comes his pocket knife, and he draws the blade of it sharply across the palm of his hand drawing blood.

"Oh look, I cut myself. It's really coming out." Bobby waves his hand in the man's face as the blood drips and our suspect begins to convulse.

I do my part to remain stoic; after all, it's only a flesh wound and my worst worry should be making sure he doesn't get too distracted to remember to keep it from getting infected. Still, seeing the blood triggers a response in me.

Bodily fluids are not something that make me squeamish on their own. If this were the case, I'd very likely be the worst homicide detective on the force. However, because of the violent death of my ex-husband, I have trouble with watching romantic partners bleed. In the past, boyfriends have cut themselves shaving and I've managed to quietly excuse myself long enough to become composed. Bobby isn't just another boyfriend though. Although our relationship has only lasted a few months so far, when I look at him I see a future. Even so, by the time he turns around proudly with his handkerchief now wrapped around the wound, I've managed to plaster on a smile.

I have no intention of acting coldly towards him for the rest of the day, but every time I look and see the now bandaged hand my anxiety response kicks in. Bobby is brilliant enough that my change in behavior does not go unnoticed, but he doesn't seem to connect the dots that he has caused the change.

By the time we get off work, I can feel that my continued anxiety is irrational, but somehow it won't leave.

"It's uh, it's been a really tough case hasn't it?" Bobby asks, running his uninjured hand through his hair as he tries to open up a conversation.

"Yeah, tough case," I mumble, realizing I sound more bitter than intended as I notice where he's began to bleed through his gauze wrapping. Part of me knows I should just tell him the truth about what's bothering me, but a nagging kernel of anxiety makes me wonder if I can still be considered brave Detective Alexandra Eames if I admit to panicking over something so trivial.

"You're okay? I mean with the victims being blonde women?" he asks. It could almost be endearing how much he's trying so hard to get to the root of my mood change, even as he forgets to turn off his work brain. However, I want him to use his brilliance to figure out what's really going on without me having to outright spell it out.

"You really aren't that great of a detective." I snort as I slam my empty plate on the table a little too hard before getting up to walk away towards our bedroom, hoping to compose myself there. I only manage to make it part of the way down the hall before everything from the day spills over and I find myself leaning against the wall sobbing awkwardly.

For a moment Bobby continues to sit at the table in stunned silence before I hear him get up. "Alex, what..." after a second he pauses and I can almost imagine him looking down at his injured hand as the gears click together.

Seconds later, he's behind me and I turn around and bury my face in his shirt.

Gently he reaches a hand out to stroke my hair. "I'm sorry Alex. I was so caught up in being right that I forgot to think about how you felt about what I was doing."

For a few minutes, he continues to hold me, rocking gently until I feel my anxiety being replaced with a sudden tiredness.

Bobby softly kisses the top of my head before using our size difference as leverage to pick me up. "I think we should just forget about the dishes and take a nice bath instead."

Tiredly I nod in approval, relieved that at the end of the day we're always back on the same wavelength.


End file.
